Wilson froze. “Why?”
“You remember how obstinate and pious Quinn could be. He couldn’t wait to get rid of you. You challenged his vision of the future. He used me to exploit the uncertainty surrounding your father’s shooting and the murder charges to discredit you and Kresge amp; Company. I never should have allowed him to manipulate me, but I honestly believe in the America’s Warehouse strategy. I think you knew that all along.
“What you didn’t know was that Quinn had a ruthless, unpredictable side. He was having a wild affair with one of our associates and pocketed a cool half billion while manipulating his company’s stock. Don’t get me wrong, the partnership has made billions on Musselman’s stock in recent weeks, especially the Hearst contingent, but it wasn’t enough for Quinn. All of a sudden he got righteous and began mourning his lost soul. I tried everything to convince him to be patient, but he didn’t trust me anymore. I’d become one of the evil ones who’d corrupted him. He went to the FBI in return for his and Musselman’s immunity. Damien Hearst went ballistic. You know the rest of the story,” Tate said, his eyes communicating sadness.
Wilson was dumbfounded. Tate was either the best liar Wilson had ever met or a victim just like his father. He remained silent, waiting for Tate to continue.
“We believe Damien Hearst is the one who kidnapped your girlfriend. He knows you’re in charge of the company now, and he’s made a pre-emptive strike to manipulate you with Emily’s life.”
“Do you know where she is?” Wilson asked frantically.
“No,” Tate said, pausing. “But, I think we can persuade Hearst to give her back. If we can convince him that he and his clients won’t be included in any disclosure.”
“You’re still planning to disclose the abuses and manipulations?” Wilson asked, hoping for the first time since they’d sat down that Tate was telling him the truth.
“Absolutely. But it can’t happen piecemeal. We have a lot of work to do before we’ll be ready to disclose everything,” Tate said, taking another bite of salad. “Your role is crucial, Wilson. That’s why I’m here.”
“So your publicity proposal was a ploy?” Wilson asked, debating with himself about what to believe.
“Not at all; we want your business. We understand Fielder amp; Company better than any of our competitors, but that’s not why I’m here,” Tate said as he leered at Wilson. “I’m here to ask for your help in modifying our plan.”
“Which plan?” Wilson asked, feeling toyed with again.
“Your father’s.”
“Was it part of my father’s plan to have Daniel Redd killed?”
“Of course not,” Tate said, looking indignant. “That was Hearst and the partners he’d persuaded to join him. Don’t worry, we have all of them under surveillance and we won’t back off until Emily’s returned.”
“If you have them under surveillance, why don’t you know where she is?” Wilson demanded.
“We don’t know which contractors they’re using. The only thing we do know is that she was flown out of Venice on Saturday.”
Just then, two waiters entered the room, removed their salad dishes, placed their main dishes in front of them, and poured more wine.
“I’m sorry,” Tate continued. “I know this isn’t easy for you. Why don’t you eat something? I’ll start from the beginning.”
44
Emily — Eastern Seaboard, North America
Emily immediately stopped breathing when someone touched her and then gently raised her from the cot. Whoever it was had the touch and scent of a woman, probably the same woman who’d worn the Venice carnival mask on the plane, Emily thought.
“Do you need to use the bathroom?” an automated voice said into Emily’s earphones.
Unable to speak because of the tape on her mouth, Emily nodded her head.
The woman untied Emily’s legs and hands. Another person, a man, joined the woman and the two of them lifted Emily from the cot and walked her to the bathroom. Once inside the small bathroom, the woman removed Emily’s blindfold and the tape from her mouth. It was the same woman from the plane with the same mask. “I’ll wait for you outside,” the automated voice said into the earphones as the woman’s lips moved. “Knock on the door when you’re finished.”
Alone in the bathroom, Emily relieved herself while frantically searching for something, anything, that would identify her location. Her eyes darted to every nook and cranny in the four-foot square space. Then she saw it. She lurched forward, then stopped. They could be watching her. Please God, let it be something I can use. It was the corner of a moldy, water stained match cover folded into a wedge between the floor and the toilet stand to keep the toilet from moving. She leaned hard to one side of the toilet, and then with her arm behind her, she discreetly removed the match cover, trying desperately not to destroy it. When it was free, she buried her head between her legs as if cramping and unfolded the aged match cover. Thank you, God. The printing was barely legible but she could read it:
Teterboro Jet Services, 24-Hour Maintenance and Support to Business Jets, 141 Charles A. Lindbergh Drive, Teterboro Airport, Teterboro, NJ 07608.
She memorized the information and carefully replaced the moldy wedge. Her heart was soaring as she washed her hands and face in the small sink next to the toilet bowl. Then she knocked on the door.
The masked woman entered the bathroom and replaced the blindfold but not the tape to her mouth. Emily was escorted to a straight-backed chair and told to sit down. Her legs were tied tightly to the chair, and a table was pushed in front of her.
“Here is some soup and crackers,” the automated voice said, as the woman guided Emily’s hands to the bowl and crackers.
Emily picked up the warm bowl and raised it to her lips. Vegetable soup; it tasted good. She quickly inhaled the soup and was given another bowl. When she finished, she expressed her thanks.
“You’re welcome,” said the automated voice.
Emily had been silently rehearsing what she was about to say. “My parents expect me to call when I return from Venice. If they don’t hear from me, they’ll start asking questions. If I could just leave them a voice message, that would be…”
The automated voice cut her off, “Let me see what I can do. Do you have the number?”
Emily told her the number. Then the tape was reapplied to her mouth and her hands were retied to the chair.
A few minutes later, the woman returned. “You can leave a brief voice message for your parents,” the automated voice said. The tape was removed from her mouth along with the earphones. A phone was placed next to her ear and mouth. “When you hear the click on the line, you will have thirty seconds. Don’t do anything stupid or the recording will be erased before the message is sent,” the automated voice said.
Emily knew exactly what she was going to say. When the click came, she spoke quickly and enthusiastically:
“Mom and Dad, it’s me. Sorry I missed you. Just wanted you know that we’re back. We had a glorious time. When we arrived by sea at the San Marco port and I saw the Campanile d’Oro and the Palazzo Ducale, I started crying because it was so wonderfully beautiful. And, where we stayed was only minutes from San Marco. Never fear, I’ll tell you all about it when we visit you next week. I love you.”
When Emily was finished, the earphones and tape were reapplied and she was left alone. She’d done it. Now, Wilson and Hap Greene would have to decipher the message.
45
Wilson — Boston, MA
As long as Emily was still missing, Wilson had no choice but to listen to Wayland Tate, who spent the next hour spinning a tale of good and evil in the garden of American capitalism. Including, of course, their plans to replant the garden.